True confession, sort of

Not exactly the confession of the century.

O.J. Simpson isn't saying he killed his former wife and her friend June 12, 1994 - but if he did, he can tell you what might have happened.

Oh, puh-leese. We can understand the tortured man's need to unburden his soul, even if in a bizarre hypothetical way. After all, anyone who's studied the case in any depth believes he brutally stabbed Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman. Even Simpson's publisher, Judith Regan, says "I consider this his confession."

But must a book publisher go along with his crocodile confession? Must anyone be foolish enough to bankroll this man's thinly veiled therapy?

Well, if so, every dime ought to go to satisfying the $33.5 million civil verdict against him by both victims' families.

And might we suggest, rather than rewarding the only real suspect in the double murder by buying either his book or his perverted tale, instead donating to the Nicole Brown Charitable Foundation for victims of domestic violence (P.O. Box 3777, Dana Point, Calif., 92629; www.nbcf.org), or your local battered women's shelter. It would be a much more productive use of your time and money.

This has all been very surreal anyway: allowing a man most people believe to be a savage double-murderer not only to roam the streets, but also to be "hunting for the real killer" - presumably on the finest golf courses in the country.

But it gets worse. Now he wants to profit from his "iffy" confession.

Let's hope not. But then, according to P.T. Barnum, there have been millions of suckers born since Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman were killed.